Page 97 of Yes No Maybe

She clears her throat, glancing with a pinched brow from her feet to my eyes again. “I don’t want you to give up anything for me… but I’m not ready to take my sign down, either.”

“Fair enough. How about a compromise?”

“I’m listening.”

“The signs stay up, but we agree not to sign anything until we finish what we started.”

Her head cocks in curiosity while I grab two items from the porch swing. I hand her the manuscript first, and another tear slides down her cheek as she looks up at me.

“You finished it?”

“Yep. I want you to be the first to read it cover to cover.”

She holds it like a baby, letting her finger run over the oversized scripted title on the front page, and she smiles.

The cat mug stuffed with good pens and sticky notes comes next—I set it in the crook of her arm. “Like we agreed, you have full veto power over any of it. Mark it up to your heart’s content.”

Nodding, she smirks. “I will… as we agreed. I’ll need a few days.”

“I have to visit your class, too. That was the deal.”

She chews her bottom lip. “Monday, then. Be there at eight.”

“Done. How did today go?”

Another smile breaks through. “Um, really well. They loved the plan, and um…” Her brow pinches like she wants to tell me something but can’t put the words together. “Um… Congratulations on finishing your book.” She taps the manuscript and turns toward the door.

“Rowan, wait.” I reach for the last item on the porch swing—a vibrant array of flowers. “I selected them myself: the full blue hydrangeas to match your eyes, friendly yellow Gerber daisies to go with your smile, delicate lilies and soft dahlias for your gentleness, and lavender sprigs for your calmness. I frustrated the hell out of that florist.”

I lay them atop my other gifts, watching her expression bounce from them to me.

When her bothered brow creases even more, I say, “You said that’s how I’ll know, right?”

“Um, I have to go.” Arms full, she awkwardly ducks inside her door, leaving me wondering if I went too far.

Thirty-Two

Rowan

Hewenttoofar.

Inside, I lean against the door and inhale the eclectic bouquet. I can’t believe he bought me flowers. I also can’t believe that I’ve gone from angry to sad to… I don’t know anymore.

I almost wanted him to kiss me. Falling into Jack Graham’s arms would be so easy—he is the sexiest, smartest man I’ve ever met, let alone been close to. Seeing his bedroom eyes in their natural habitat and exploring his tattoos up close alone are incentives enough to give in and let him do whatever he wants. Why not take advantage of such a rare opportunity?

Oh, right—the devastating heartbreak it would cause. It’s clear in the way he touches me, the way he kisses, that it wouldn’t be anything less than the kind of mind-altering sex that drives a stake through time—before Jack and after. Theafterscares me when I am whole-heartedly his, and his interest dissolves like fog baked in sunlight.

I can’t handle being with him, knowing I’ll lose him. Or living next door to the consequences.

Through the peephole, I see that he lingers, brooding on the other side, his arms braced on the doorframe like he might sling himself inside if I open it again. Our talk has dulled my sharp edges, though. Maybe I’m holding on to the wrong impression of him, like it’s an out-of-date map leading me astray. Iknowhe isn’t the selfish playboy man-baby I first thought he was. But guys like Jack Graham don’t settle… and certainly not with someone like me.

“You okay?” Mom calls from the living room amid groaning zombies.

I hold up my gifts with a short eye roll before heading to the kitchen. I arrange the flowers in a tall vase with water and bring them to the coffee table.

“Gorgeous! Jack gave you those?” Mom says as if it’s a mystery. I nod.

Sara chuckles. “He’s making an effort.”

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